She Can’t

She can’t tell you how she feels
You’d call her selfish.
She can’t tell you her doubts
You’d call her full of insecurity.
She can’t tell you her jealousy
You’d call her possessive.
She can’t tell you not to leave
You’d call her clingy.
She can’t tell you her fears
You’d call her a coward.
She can’t tell you her complaints
You’d call her insensitive.
She can’t tell you her thoughts
You’d call her immature.
She can’t tell you about her tears
You’d call her over-acting.
She can’t tell you about her anymore –
How cynical she was before you met her.
How hopeless she was before you met her.
How lost she was before you found her.
She can’t tell you how you’ve forgotten –
That you’re the only who can make her cry.
That you’re the only one who can calm her down.
That you’re only one she has.
She can’t tell you how much it hurts.
She can’t tell you how she hates herself.
She can’t tell you how she blames herself.
She can’t tell you how she hurts herself.
All she can tell you is her smile.
All she can tell you is her laugh.
All she can tell you is “I’m okay”.

She can’t tell you she’s dying inside.
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Author: Aria

I write to express, not to impress.

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